Nothing had gone to plan. Not really. The second charge on the right side of the space hadn’t detonated. If it had, it might’ve concealed his getaway better, but instead, he had just stood there, hitting the button again and again in frustration, but nothing happened. By the time he’d tossed the controller aside and made his way for the back door, someone must have spotted him.
A big hulking, angry someone he now recognized as Harley Dalton. The same guy whose girlfriend they’d kidnapped and ransomed for ten million only a few months before.
His ears were still ringing from the explosion, but he could hear the sound of someone’s footsteps coming quick behind him. Before he could make it to his car, he felt a large hand clamp onto his collar and the next thing he knew, he was facedown in the dirt. It only took one strike to knock him unconscious and he’d woken up in the back of a cop car.
Greg glanced up at the mirror and the men who were no doubt watching him through the glass. He wouldn’t get away with it this time. They’d get his prints off the detonator he’d carelessly discarded. With Dalton working the other case, they’d likely tie him to the kidnapping and maybe even the baby-swapping plot. He was screwed, and this time he had no one to blame but himself.
A moment later, the door opened and Harley stepped in with another detective beside him. Dalton had a bandaged cut on his forehead, probably from the explosion. It only served to make his angry scowl look all the more dangerous.
“Good morning, Greg. Can we get you some coffee or water or something?” the detective asked.
He shook his head. He wasn’t about to give up some DNA or let his bladder get the best of him. He’d seen enough cop dramas to know how that worked.
“We found your second bomb in the ballroom. The work was so shoddy the bomb squad couldn’t even set it off when they tried. I’m surprised the first one worked at all. You’re lucky, though. If they’d both gone off, someone might’ve been seriously hurt or killed. Then you’d be looking at murder on top of everything else.”
All that and the Steeles had walked away without much more than a few scratches on them. It figured. They were untouchable.
“Thanks to the legwork done by Mr. Dalton here, we’ve been able to link you back to not only the bomb but the recent kidnapping of Jade Nolan and the attempted abduction of Jade nearly thirty years ago. You’ve been a busy guy.”
Dalton leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. It was no wonder Greg had been knocked out with one punch from those massive fists. “What happened, Greg?” he asked. “From the looks of it, you haven’t been living the high life we expected. You got ten million dollars in ransom money from me and you’ve got nothing to show for it. No job, no money. It looks like you’re living with your elderly father. That must’ve made you angry, to be your age and still living with your dad.”
Greg didn’t respond to the bait. It wouldn’t help. He wasn’t sure much would help him now, but he’d lean on the right to remain silent as long as he could.
The detective sat down at the table and leaned forward onto his elbows. “So what happened to all that money, Greg? Or should I ask, where’s Buster and all that money?”
At that, Greg snorted in derision. “If I knew where Buster was, I would be there, getting my half out of him and pounding his smug-ass face for screwing me over.”
Dalton rolled his eyes at Greg and the detective started writing things down. That was when Greg realized what he’d just said. So much for remaining silent. That’s why Buster was the brains of the operation and Greg was in handcuffs.
“I want a lawyer,” he said before he could make the situation any worse. “And I want a deal,” he added. If he was going down, he sure as hell was taking Buster down with him.
* * *
River sat back in his chair and stared at the plans he was submitting as part of his company’s bid for a big-city project. It was one of those new mixed-use developments, where retail, entertainment, dining, office spaces and housing all coexisted. The suburbs were an ideal of generations past. Millennials were more interested in living on a smaller scale in the middle of the action, spawning urban renewal projects all over the country.
This was a huge project and if Southern Charm got it, it would cement River’s company in the Charleston real estate and development market. That’s what the whole charity undertaking with Steele Tools had been about after all—raising visibility so he could land lu
crative jobs like this.
At least that’s what he told himself. River dropped the plans back onto his desk and sighed. If he were honest with himself, he knew it had had more to do with seeing Morgan again. Forcing her to look him in the eye and deal with what she’d done to him. To show her and her father that he wasn’t the lost cause they’d believed him to be. That hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d anticipated. It had gone far, far better. Until it fell apart.
“Mr. Atkinson, there’s a Mr. Steele here to see you.”
River frowned at his phone. His heart had leaped for a moment at the name Steele, thinking perhaps it was Morgan. But no. It was probably one of her brothers coming by to drop off something inconsequential.
“Send him in,” he responded. River quickly rolled up the plans he was going over and set them out of the way. When he looked up again, he was stunned to find it was the CEO, Trevor, not one of his sons, paying him a visit.
River stood up like a shot and straightened his tie. “I wasn’t expecting you, Mr. Steele.” The man crossed the room and reached out to shake River’s hand for the first time. He was stunned into taking it and offering the man a seat. “Have a seat. What can I do for you, Mr. Steele?”
“Please,” he insisted as he lowered himself into the chair. “Just call me Trevor. I’m not here on official company business today.”
River tried to temper his surprise. Why else would this man be here? By all accounts, he hated River and would sooner have a restraining order put on him than smile in his direction. “Okay. To what do I owe this visit then?”
“I had a disturbing discussion with my daughter this morning and it made me realize that I needed to talk to you.”
What disturbing things had she told her father to send him across town to see River? Yes, they’d had a fight and he’d walked away, but what did that have to do with Trevor? “I don’t understand.”
The older man nodded and leaned forward to lightly wring his hands together as he gathered his thoughts. “She told me that you two broke up after the party. That you found out about Dawn.” He shook his head. “This is all my fault,” he added abruptly.